Winter Winds
by JamesLuver
Summary: It's Christmas 1914. Anna and Mr. Bates' situation is the same as it always has been, until a mishap under the mistletoe forces everything to change.


**A/N:** I struggled with this a lot, for some reason, so it's not exactly how I wanted it to be. The title really isn't that relevant - it changed about three times during the process of writing this, and just got stuck with this while I was listening to the Mumford & Sons song.

Merry Christmas, fellow Anna/Bates shippers! Our year got off to a rocky start, what with the events of last year's Christmas Special, but this time it's ours to enjoy. It's going to be incredible!

**Disclaimer:** If I owned_ Downton Abbey_, the happy events of this year's Christmas Special would be a very regular thing.

* * *

_Winter Winds_

It had all been Daisy's idea. Miss O'Brien had scoffed at Mrs. Hughes for indulging such a ridiculous wish, but the rest of the young men and women in the house had almost been beside themselves with glee at the thought of the fun few days that were to come. The older members of staff had met it with varying degrees of good spirit, from Mr. Carson's downright indignation that such improper acts could be encouraged, to Mrs. Patmore's roguish comments about the mischief that could be caused.

Still, regardless of Mr. Carson's protests, Mrs. Hughes had ignored him and hung the two sprigs of mistletoe that she'd managed to find in the doorways of the servants' hall and the kitchen respectively.

Despite her being one of the most senior members of the household, Anna had felt like a giddy young girl when the news had been announced. She'd known immediately who she wanted to catch under the mistletoe, but as her gaze had flickered over to him to gauge how he was taking the news, she had been disappointed to find him staring studiously ahead, his face expression unreadable.

It hadn't deterred her, not at first. It was Christmas 1914, and despite the fact that absolutely nothing in their situation had changed since that fateful walk to the flower show all that time ago, Anna was certain that he felt the same way about her as she did about him. She'd been excited at the prospect of mistletoe in the house, and had been sure that if Mr. Bates could steal a chaste kiss under the mistletoe with her, then he would take the opportunity like she wanted him to.

Mrs. Hughes had stated that it would give a bit of extra cheer when so many young men of the estate were away in France spending their Christmas in the midst of such horrors, and Anna had had to agree there – it had certainly added a bit of optimism to the house despite the dreary backdrop of the war that was no nearer to finishing than it had been in August, despite the claims that it would be over come the winter season. Anna couldn't remember a time when she'd had so much fun giggling good-naturedly at some of the others. She wasn't sure which was funnier, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes sharing an awkward kiss on the cheek (the butler looking as dignified as ever and giving her the most professional peck possible), or William's expression when he'd found himself coming face-to-face with O'Brien in the doorway as he'd lurked about trying to catch Daisy. She and Mr. Bates had been unable to mask their mirth then, especially as William had fumbled so much that he'd ended up banging heads with the irate lady's maid as he'd bent down uncertainly.

However, there had been the share of sweet moments mixed in with the amusing, and Anna had enjoyed those just as much. William's face when he'd finally caught Daisy under the mistletoe in the kitchen had been so innocently overjoyed that even Mr. Carson had let such behaviour slide as the young footman had bent down to give her a chaste kiss on the mouth, blushing boyishly. Daisy's expression had been one of endearing confusion, and Anna had felt her heart swelling in her chest, pleased for the both of them, her gaze drifting to Mr. Bates. He, however, had avoided her gaze firmly, and he hadn't seemed nearly as pleased for William as she was.

"_It's nice to see William getting his kiss, isn't it?"_ she'd commented to him lowly. _"He deserves it, after all this time."_

"_Yes, it is,"_ he'd replied distractedly. _"William is the most deserving lad I know of. Daisy is a very lucky girl."_

"_Or she would be if she stopped being so silly,"_ Anna had mused.

"_What do you mean?"_

She had turned to him, looking him determinedly in the eye. _"If she could only see for herself what a deserving man William is, then she surely wouldn't be as dismissive as she is with him now."_

He'd frowned at her then, and she'd known that he'd understood her meaning completely. Because she'd been talking about more than just William and Daisy. She'd been alluding to them, and he'd known it.

Since that conversation, he had begun to avoid her at all costs. Now her convictions were shaken. The mistletoe had been hanging up for almost five days, and she was no nearer to accosting him under it than she had been on the first day. Whenever she lingered anywhere near the servants' hall, he always made a point of veering in another direction, or else pretending to be engrossed with something else to delay their meeting. It was beginning to be frustrating, especially since he didn't appear to have any qualms about meeting anyone else under the mistletoe – he'd been perfectly happy to meet two of the other housemaids as well as Mrs. Patmore under there. What was even more infuriating was the fact that he hadn't even bothered to avoid Miss O'Brien, who had pulled a face of such abject disgust that it had brought everyone in the room enough merriment to last them through the whole of dinner. Anna had initially bristled at the thought of Mr. Bates sharing a kiss under the mistletoe with Miss O'Brien when he wouldn't do the same with her, but since Miss O'Brien had walked off with nary a glance backwards and certainly without bestowing a kiss upon the valet, she had told herself to stop being so silly. She herself had never really entered the hall at the right time to receive any kisses – she had crossed paths with Mr. Carson once, who had kissed her cheek in a fatherly manner, and one of the hall boys, who had looked a little disappointed when she had only offered her cheek to him.

She was certain that things were never going to change. It was becoming more and more disheartening with every hour that passed, and she had started to wonder rather dejectedly if this was all that they would ever share for the remaining courses of their lives – just lingering glances across the room, a brush of their hands every now and then, the odd secret giggle, intimate conversations that never deepened beyond the realm of friendship, even if their hearts were crying out for more. If he wouldn't even kiss her below the mistletoe, then what chance did she have of kissing him without it?

And then, quite without warning or reason, the day that changed everything arrived, swept along with the winter winds of Christmas cheer.

It had been the same as usual all day. They had sat side by side at the breakfast table. Their hands had brushed as they'd both reached for the sugar at the same time. He had stayed behind as she'd lingered by the doorway, avoiding her eye. Finally, she had given up, leaving him pretending to swill the last dregs of his tea. At lunch, they had chatted easily. At dinner, Mr. Bates had showed her a cutting from a newspaper that he'd been reading, and she'd leaned closer than was strictly necessary or proper.

After dinner, the whole body of servants had gathered in the servants' hall to share a rare evening of peace. With the family dining at the nearby Skelton estate, the odd jobs had been caught up on with relative ease, and it was possible for them to gather all together for a joyous evening. This close to Christmas, Anna reflected, it was a very rare thing that should be appreciated fully.

She sat quietly by as she waited for Mr. Bates to return from his room, where he had just disappeared to minutes before, after he had quietly announced that he would like to fetch a book. No one had taken any notice of him, but Anna had, though she had pretended not to, feigning absorption in a rather hilarious verbal battle between Miss O'Brien and Mrs. Patmore. In reality, however, her mind was whirring, attempting to catalogue her next move. The servants' hall was very crowded this evening. Would he notice if she slipped out of her seat and waited to accidently bump into him? Would the rest of the servants notice if she lingered by the doorway?

No one would notice, she reasoned with herself. They were all too preoccupied with more interesting things, like the mince pies that Mrs. Patmore had made, and William playing the piano, and the wondering of what the family would get each respective servant for Christmas this year. From her vantage point, she could see out of the servants' hall and into the darkened corridor. If she stood up at just the right moment on the pretence of going to fetch herself a cup of tea, then she'd be able to meet with Mr. Bates under the mistletoe. Her foot tapped against the stone floor in anticipation. She tried to arrange her face expression into what she hoped was a neutral one. Her hands twisted together in her lap. He wouldn't be long now.

There was movement at the end of the corridor, and she straightened up at once. Her heart had begun to pound sickeningly hard in her chest. This was her moment. It was now or never. Mr. Bates wouldn't be expecting this, and he wouldn't be able to reject her with the eyes of the servants on them. Cautiously, she got to her feet. Her legs were shaking. No one took any notice of her as she moved towards the doorway. She strained her eyes to see, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The shadowy figure moved closer. Her heart hammered louder. This was it, the moment she had been waiting for –

She stepped into the doorway, just as Mr. Bates moved forward. Their bodies met clumsily. Anna glanced up with a shy grin.

"I'm sorry –" she began, then froze. The smile stopped short.

"That's quite all right," came the reply. But it wasn't Mr. Bates smooth, dulcet tone that whispered the words to her.

It was the loud, merry lilt of a smooth Irish tenor. Shocked, Anna could only stare. Mr. Branson's warm gaze held hers, his eyes dancing mischievously.

"Well, well," he said. "I wasn't expecting to meet you here, Anna."

"Neither was I," she managed to stammer. She wanted to step back as discreetly as possible, but the unmistakeable sound of a cane tapping quietly along the flagstones had her rooted to the spot.

_Oh God. Not that. Please not that._ Anything _but that._

It wasn't to be. Because at that very moment, John Bates himself rounded the corner. He came to a sudden halt as he realised that she was standing in the doorway. Slowly, his eyes travelled along the scene. His gaze lingered over Mr. Branson. Was it her imagination, or was there a flash of jealousy in his eyes?

Frantically, she tried to communicate with him, tried to let him know that this wasn't what she wanted, that this wasn't what she'd planned –

"Look at Anna and Mr. Branson!"

She was startled enough to glance backwards into the room to find the eyes of the house suddenly upon her. It had been Daisy's shrill, excited shriek that had drawn attention to them in the first place, and now the music died down as even William twisted in his chair to stare interestedly at her. She could feel her face flaming. It was too quiet.

"You're standing under the mistletoe!" Daisy felt the need to explain to her happily, as though she was a child who hadn't quite caught on to the significance of this. "You and Mr. Branson are standing under the mistletoe!"

"Thank you, Daisy," said Mr. Carson, looking pained. "We do not need to make a song and dance about such a thing. It's bad enough that that infernal thing is here in the first place…"

Mrs. Hughes shot him one of her best disapproving looks, and he dissolved into a dignified silence, furrowing his bushy brows in discontentment as he looked upon the sight of the housemaid and the chauffeur under the mistletoe.

Mr. Branson seemed unperturbed by it all. An easy grin had spread across his face, and he leaned himself casually against the doorframe. Anna didn't dare raise her eyes. She didn't want to see Mr. Bates' face. How had this all gone so horrifically wrong? Just moments ago she had been fantasising about kissing Mr. Bates in this very spot. Now she was trapped here with Mr. Branson. It wasn't that she didn't like Mr. Branson. She did, very much. He made her laugh, he was an interesting person. His views were sometimes a bit too radical for her tastes, but he was kind and honourable and willing to help out a friend in need. Still, that didn't mean that she wanted to kiss him.

"Come here then, Anna!" Mr. Branson said jovially, seemingly unaware of her inner turmoil. "It's tradition, after all."

She chanced a glance over his shoulder to find Mr. Bates still staring at her. His face expression was unreadable, but she thought that spark of jealousy could still be detected in his eyes. From the way that he never took his eyes away from her, she surmised that he was waiting for her decision. She felt caught in the middle. She didn't want to kiss Mr. Branson, but she knew it would appear ridiculous if she refused; people would want to know the reason why at once. She could feel the eyes of the other servants burning into her. She couldn't make a fool of herself.

"Go on then," she said as cheerily as she could, tipping her head back. Mr. Branson's grin was easy and wide as he stooped down a little. The height difference between them wasn't as uncomfortable as it could be; Mr. Branson wasn't actually that tall. Not like Mr. Bates.

She waited to feel his lips against her cheek. His hands found her waist snugly. Why did he feel the need to hold her? That was making things infinitely worse. She wasn't sure what to do with hers, so she kept them dangling uselessly by her side. And then his mouth was over hers, warm and gentle. It was a brief kiss, a chaste one, surprising her utterly because she hadn't been expecting that at all. But it felt nice.

"Mr. Branson!" It was Mr. Carson who interrupted them then, his voice and expression thunderous. "What sort of behaviour is that!?"

"Sorry, Mr. Carson," answered Mr. Branson cheekily. "But Anna is such a pretty lass that I couldn't resist."

Anna's gaze darted back into the servants' hall as she flushed. Several of the younger women in the house looked a bit put-out that Mr. Branson had kissed her in such a way. She would gladly have traded the position for the same encounter with Mr. Bates. Of their own accord, her eyes cautiously began to drift over to where the valet had been lurking in the shadows just mere moments before.

When her eyes reached the place where he had been standing, however, she realised that he was no longer there. Her heart plummeted into her stomach. Where had he gone?

"Excuse me," she murmured then, stepping past Mr. Branson and into the hallway.

"Anna?" Mr. Branson's voice was questioning. "Are you all right? I haven't offended you, have I? It was just a bit of fun, I promise."

She was aware of the eyes of the house boring into her, and forced a smile. "Of course not, Mr. Branson. I just need a bit of air."

"Don't be too long," Mrs. Hughes called from the servants' hall table. "It's cold outside. I don't want you in bed with a cold over this busy period."

"No, Mrs. Hughes," she said quickly. "I'll be five minutes, I promise."

The housekeeper nodded her acquisition, and Anna darted from the hall as quickly as she could. She was shaking. Surely Mr. Bates hadn't taken offence to her kissing Mr. Branson? Surely he understood that she was only following the rules dictated to her?

_And_, a more treacherous part of her thought ungallantly, _what would it matter? He's made it quite clear that he doesn't want to kiss _you_. So why should he care if you kiss anyone else?_

She knew it was redundant to think like that, especially because she didn't want to kiss anyone else. And hadn't she felt a little jealous at the thought of O'Brien and him sharing a kiss? Jealous of _Miss O'Brien_, who couldn't stand him anyway? _She'd_ been the ridiculous one. There was no need for her to be hypocritical.

Pausing for only a brief moment, Anna moved towards the back door. Mr. Bates was predictable if nothing else. Pulling open the door, she squinted into the night. She could just make him out, sitting on one of the crates outside and no doubt getting himself all wet in the process, the silly man. At the sight of him sitting there with his head bent and his shoulders seemingly slumped in defeat, Anna's heart twinged in her chest. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she squared her shoulders and stepped out into the courtyard. The wind slapped her cheeks as soon as she stepped outside, and she shuddered. It was colder than she'd expected. She wished she'd brought her coat.

At the sound of her approaching footsteps, Mr. Bates glanced up and sprang to his feet with surprising agility. She felt her nerve falter for just a second before pushing on.

"You shouldn't be out here," he said as she approached him, attempting to keep his tone neutral. Anna thought he was failing rather badly. "It's too cold."

"You shouldn't be out here either," she countered. "_You_ can't be warm."

"I needed to clear my head."

"Perhaps I need to too."

He narrowed his eyes at her as she came and settled herself beside him, wincing as the wetness seeped through her dress. "Anna, please."

"Please what?"

"I know why you've followed me out here. And I'd prefer it if I could be left alone."

"Oh, good," she said. "At least we don't have to tread around the subject. And I won't be leaving you alone, not yet. Not until you explain yourself to me."

"Why do I need to explain myself?"

"Because _you're_ the one who is acting ridiculous."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Mr. Bates' lips were pursed thinly. She could tell that he was growing irritated.

"Yes you do," she argued. "Why are you sitting out here now if you're not angry that I kissed Mr. Branson?"

"I'm not angry. You're entitled to kiss whoever you want."

"That's a bit hypocritical of you!"

"How is that being hypocritical?" His voice was low. He was obviously trying to hold his temper. It was a side of him that she'd never known before, but she wasn't afraid of him.

"Because you say I'm entitled to kiss whoever I want. How come I'm not entitled to kiss you?"

She heard the breath catch in his throat as he rounded on her with wide eyes. "Don't say that."

"I'm not going to lie!"

"But you know it can't happen. I've explained it enough times."

"Yes, and my feelings about the whole thing still haven't changed."

He shook his head, moving a few paces away from her. "I can't listen to this. Go back inside."

"No, I won't," she told him defiantly, following. "We need to talk about this. Now."

"There's nothing more to say."

"Oh, I beg to differ. There's plenty more to say."

He looked exasperated and a little angry, but she was not fazed. She was not going to back off this time; she had been far too quick to fold on the day that she had initially confessed her feelings, overwhelmed by his revelations, and cursed herself for scarpering like a frightened rabbit on the night that had almost brought them their first kiss. She often wondered what things would be like now if she had continued on despite the interruption. Would he have kissed her and still pushed her away, denying the things in his heart even as he expressed them through his lips? Or would he have been overcome, forced to concede defeat, forced to stop fighting the feelings that he obviously had inside of him? It was a question that had driven her mad on so many nights, lying alone in the darkness of her room.

This time, she was determined to get answers. This time, she was determined to not let him confuse her with his cryptic riddles and enigmatic remarks. She would force him to be direct with her, and he would have to confess the truth. One way or another.

They stared each other down for a moment, neither of them speaking. Anna hoped that her glare was intimidating enough; her small stature left much to be desired in that respect.

Mr. Bates was the first to look away, sighing and leaning more heavily against his cane. "What are you hoping to achieve by this, Anna?"

"I'm hoping to achieve the truth," she said. "I think I deserve that."

His eyes softened to a warmer glow. "Oh, Anna, of course you do."

"So why can't you admit the truth to me?"

He shook his head. "It's not as simple as just admitting the truth. I will not take away your chances of a normal life with someone else, someone who can make you happy and give you everything that you need."

"So you're not going to deny it then?"

"What?"

"You're not going to deny that you _do_ have feelings for me? You're at least admitting to that?"

"I'm admitting to nothing. I _can't_ admit to anything."

"But you are! If you didn't at least feel a little of the things that I feel for you, you wouldn't be speaking in such a way! You'd just let me down gently and then allow me the time to feel hideously embarrassed with my conduct. But you're not doing that."

He limped a few steps away from her, the sound of his cane harsh against the flagstones of the courtyard. She stayed where she was.

"Why do you insist on doing this?" she said.

"I'm not insisting on doing anything. I'm simply doing the right thing."

"The right thing that's making us both unhappy?" she shot back. "Because, to me, that doesn't sound like the right thing to do at all."

He closed his eyes, his jaw working. "That's beside the point."

"No, it's not!" she said heatedly. "It's the most important point in this whole thing."

A few seconds of silence passed before he raised his left hand to rub it over his eyes. "I think tonight has proven that you can rouse the interest of any man you wanted. Any _young_ man you wanted."

Anna shook her head defiantly. "We are _not_ having that conversation."

"Yes, we are," he said, more gently this time. "Because it's very important. That kiss you shared with Mr. Branson…"

She bristled. "That kiss meant nothing."

"Mr. Branson seemed to be enjoying it."

"If you'd stayed instead of running off in a huff," she said, "you would have heard Mr. Branson saying that it was only a bit of fun."

"Well, he might have said that," he said, "but it still makes the fact that you're a very beautiful young woman plain."

"That's ridiculous!" she snapped.

"I beg to differ. And I'm sure that there are many young men out there who would do anything to have your attentions directed at them."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" she said. "I don't _want_ to give any other young man my attentions. I don't _want_ any young man. And I certainly don't want Mr. Branson."

"But Mr. Branson is young and able-bodied. He's handsome and kind and he'd be able to give you both a secure future and a family. You'd never want for anything."

"Mr. Branson is a good few years younger than me," Anna pointed out.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

Her lips twisted a little – she wasn't sure if it was in partial amusement or full-out contempt. "Can you imagine the scandal that that would cause? It would be just as scandalous as if I'd pursued a married man."

His frown was dark; he knew that he couldn't argue with that. It would indeed be seen as rather scandalous if Anna chose to marry Mr. Branson.

"Now listen to this," she said forcefully. "Mr. Branson could never compare to you. He's a lovely young man and whoever marries him will be very lucky indeed, but it won't be me, and I won't regret that in the slightest. He might be able to provide me with security and a family, but I don't want either of those things with him."

"Can't you understand that I can never give you either of those things?" His voice was laced with frustration. "If I was ever to lose my position here –"

"– Hardly likely!"

"– Then I would have no means to support myself, never mind anyone else. I would struggle to ever find work again. I don't know what I'd do until then. And as for the rest of it…it's in your best interest to find a young man who can do right by you."

She scowled at him. His stubborn side was growing more and more irritating by the day. Why couldn't he see that they were perfect for each other? What did she have to do to prove to him that she could never love anyone else now that she knew what it was like to love him? Surely there had to be a way to make him see…

It hit her then. _Of course_. There was only one solution to this problem. Everyone was preoccupied with the celebrations in the servants' hall. They were alone in the courtyard. This was her one and only chance.

She took a few decisive steps towards him. He looked like he was rooted to the spot, helpless to do anything but watch her approach. She stopped directly in front of him, planting her hands firmly on her hips. It had started to snow, she noticed. The flakes were big and soft. The snow had always held a magical promise for the housemaid – when it snowed, she believed that anything was possible. It was just the thing to give her the courage that she needed to close the gap between her and the man in front of her. For a moment, they stared at each other, Anna tilting her chin so that she could gaze up into his face more easily. And then, she leant in towards him. Her heart was hammering so hard in her chest that she thought it would burst out into the open. He looked wary, almost _scared_, but he did not back away as she closed the tiny distance between them even further.

"I've told you before, Mr. Bates," she said, and her voice was so low that she thought it would be lost to the wind, "my heart is yours and yours alone."

"It shouldn't be mine." He sounded so helpless.

They were so close now. She could feel his breath – so warm, so perfect – hitting her face. She couldn't help shuddering.

"Be that as it may," she said softly, "it _is_ yours."

The snow was falling more earnestly now, lightly dusting Mr. Bates' shoulders and beginning to give the floor a ghostly glow. She was struck by how handsome he looked in his surroundings. The need to kiss him had never been stronger.

He seemed as mesmerised by her. She could feel the flakes settling on top of her head and melting there, dampening her hair; for a brief second she wished that she hadn't left her mop cap in the servants' hall, until, seemingly of its own accord, his hand reached out and touched her. For a second, she trembled in absolute bliss underneath his touch, turning her face up to his. The snowflakes were on her skin at once, melting there, wetting her face. As though he was under a spell – a spell that he would argue she had cast with her faery ways – his fingers moved to brush the little droplets from her cheeks. His fingers were so cold against her skin, yet she felt as though she was burning where he touched her. Her breath was leaving her body in harsh pants. She had yearned for his touch for so long. Even though it was entirely innocent, she couldn't help but feel parts of her responding to him that she had imagined would stay dormant for the rest of her life. His eyes were dark and penetrating, and despite his ardent attempts to keep her at arm's length, in that instance she could read the overwhelming love in his eyes. It made her heart soar. For a long second, they stared each other out. They were so close. Their breaths collided. She could feel the warmth of his body emanating from him. His clean smell wafted into her senses. Anna silently willed him to bend down and kiss her, to finally claim her as his own.

It was as if, for the first time, her prayers had been answered.

Because, finally, after an agonising few heartbeats, he bent his head and pressed his mouth against hers.

That first feel of his lips against hers was intoxicating. In all of her life, Anna had never known such an exquisite sensation. She had expected his mouth to be cold, but the feel of him made her body flush warm all over, from the tips of her ears to her toes. Her hands rose up to rest against his chest, keeping her steady on her feet, and her eyes drifted closed of their own accord as his mouth slanted more firmly against hers.

After what seemed like eternity, but in reality was not long enough at all, Mr. Bates pulled away from her. He looked confused, uncertain.

"I'm so sorry, Anna," he said, and his tone of voice made her heart want to break. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" she demanded to know. "Why are you sorry when you know that that's the only thing that I've been longing for for more than a year!?"

"Because it's not right," he said softly. "I'm married, Anna. I won't go compromising your honour."

"I'm not asking you to compromise my honour. I'm just asking you to let us both have what we need."

"I _can't_ give you what you need. A home, a family, it's all out of my control!"

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. They were going round in circles. "Who said that I want any of those things?"

"Anna, don't be ridiculous. Of course you want those things."

"I don't want them more than I want you," she said stubbornly. "If these stolen moments are all I'd ever be allowed to know, I'd still take them in a heartbeat over the chance to have a proper life with someone else."

Mr. Bates' eyes were wide and uncertain. "Do you honestly mean that?"

"Of course I do! I've been trying to tell you that for the past year, but you just won't listen!"

He looked agonised. "I _can't_ listen."

"You kissed me." Her voice was low and determined. "You kissed me just now because you wanted to. And I want you to kiss me again."

"I can't." He sounded so helpless.

She moved closer, catching his wrist before he could move away. She should have felt embarrassed for acting in such a manner, but the only thing she could think of was one of her mother's old sayings.

_Anna, my love, sometimes actions are more significant than words._

She doubted very much that her mother had meant them in this context, but she put that to the back of her mind as she leaned up on her tiptoes.

"Well," she murmured determinedly, "if you won't kiss me, then I suppose that _I_ will be the one to kiss you."

He shook his head, looking fearful. "Anna, don't –"

She stopped him there, with her mouth. Her arms snaked their way around his neck, forcing him down so that she could change the angle of his mouth against hers. He tried to protest at first, tried to push her away, but she was unyielding, squeezing him tight in her arms and pressing her mouth more firmly over his. This was her moment to show him that she wanted him no matter what. She was determined not to squander it.

And, after a few moments, he succumbed. His cane fell to the ground with a clatter. His mouth opened beneath hers, a fact that she delighted in. Tentatively, she opened her own mouth to taste him properly.

The first meeting of their tongues sent a shiver careening down her spine. Her legs almost gave out beneath her. She had to tighten her hold on his shoulders to stabilise herself. She'd never tasted anything as divine as this before. None of the other kisses that she'd furtively shared with some of the farmers' sons back home could possibly compare to this. He surrounded her, overpowered her. He filled up every inch of her. His hands were branding her waist. His aftershave wafted into her sinuses, making her head feel woozy and wobbly, as though she was drunk. In a way she supposed she was; drunk on _him_.

Mr. Bates seemed to be just as affected by her as she was by him. His mouth moved under hers, all earlier protests seemingly forgotten. His eyes were closed, as though he was taking the time simply to feel. She wondered briefly if he found the taste of her as alluring as she found the taste of him.

And then he was pulling away from her, panting for breath, his eyes wild and confused. She followed him resolutely, resting her forehead against his chin, keeping her arms steady around him.

"Please, Anna," he breathed. "Please don't do this to me."

"Why not?" she countered. "Why not, when you want this just as much as I do?"

He was helpless to resist the press of her lips against his again, defences lying shattered around his feet. He was intoxicating to her. Everything else happening in the world paled into insignificance as she pushed her body tight against his. She was unaware of her surroundings; she'd forgotten that they were out in the courtyard, where anyone could find them if they came to search for them. None of it mattered. Just this. Him. Her. _Them_.

"Anna, please," he whispered at long last, pulling away enough so that his nose brushed against hers. His breath was so hot on her face. "Please, tell me to stop. Tell me you don't want this."

She answered him with the press of her mouth, smothering any protests he might have wanted to make. Her fingers began to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. She was inexperienced, completely and utterly. But there was something so heady about the situation that she couldn't have stopped even if she'd wanted to.

"Anna, tell me to stop." Now it was he who was taking the lead, following the lines of her skin, leaving her lips so that he could taste her skin elsewhere, his touch so soft against her face, his tone desperate and commanding.

She could only gasp, clinging to his shoulders, attempting to keep up. The tables had been turned; the power no longer lay with her. And she was all too painfully aware of her inexperience as she felt his lips glide over the ridge of her ear, warm and wet. She only knew one thing. She would never tell him to stop. Never.

He finally seemed to comprehend this, groaning a little as his lips returned to hers. And, for the first time since they'd started kissing each other, his hands stopped pushing at her hips, as though he would like nothing more than to wrench her away from him. Instead, they flattened against the flare of them, fingers splaying warmly against her sides, pulling her towards him. Anna had a second to register the exhilarating realisation that their bodies would actually be _touching_ before it happened.

When they did, she couldn't help whimpering, the sound muffled by his mouth over hers. She fit so snugly against him, the lines of their bodies complementing each other perfectly. He was warm, so wonderfully warm. It might have started to snow, but Anna was sure that she would never be cold again if she could remain like this forever. She raised herself on her tiptoes even more, desperate to feel as much contact between them as possible. She had never been this close to a man before. The other boys that she had kissed in the past had not held her like this, as though she was the only girl who could ever affect them like this; they had barely touched her at all. The other kisses had been wet and sloppy and not very pleasant. They all paled in comparison to the way that Mr. Bates kissed her.

At last they broke apart again, panting for air. To her delight, Mr. Bates didn't push her away immediately. Instead, he kept her close, his hands trembling on her hips, his gaze hesitant as he slowly found her eyes. She lowered herself back to the floor, but kept her hands on his shoulders.

Presently, he released his hold on her and stepped away. She couldn't help but feel a stab of hurt as he did that. Surely he wasn't going to continue pushing her away, citing honour and the wrongness of it all when he had kissed her like that?

He opened his mouth to speak. She braced herself.

"Anna," he began softly, "you need to understand everything completely."

"What do I need to understand?" she said, wrenching herself away from him. Her tone was harsher than she'd intended, but she was so tired of him acting like this, acting like she was the only woman in the world one minute, only to be the complete opposite a moment later.

He seemed undeterred by her tone of voice. "If you still insist that you love me, then I have to make sure you understand this completely. I won't catch you with a lie."

"What are you talking about?"

He reached through the space between them, grasped her hand gently within his. The feel of his fingers clasping over hers – so large, so strong – made her feelings of ire desert her immediately. She tightened her grip on him, vowing to fight for this and never let go. Around them, the snow continued to fall, little flakes dancing in harmony on the gentle breeze.

His eyes were serious, though his voice was hesitant. "I'm talking about…I'm talking about the two of us."

Her breath caught in her throat. _The two of us_. He had never spoken about the two of them in such a context before. They had always been completely separate entities; the valet and the housemaid.

"I can never give you a proper relationship," he stated softly. "I can never treat you how I want to; I can never give you the world."

"I've already told you –"

He shook his head. "I know, you'd rather have _me_ than the chance of a proper life. I will never be able to understand that, but it's still not going to be as black and white as you're making it."

"What do you mean?"

His fingers stroked over hers, softening the blow of his next words. "We're only ever going to be allowed stolen moments. Furtive kisses out here every once in a while. Secret meetings. No one can ever know about us. We can never walk out together like normal people can. We can never declare ourselves openly."

"So?" she said fiercely. "I don't care about all that!"

"You don't care _now_," he said. "But you will. Because one day it's not going to be enough for you. For either of us."

"What do you mean?" Her innocence was as heart-breaking as it was endearing.

He felt hot, uncomfortable. "This. One day we're going to want more. We're going to want to be…to be together properly. And we can't, not without marriage."

The blush manifested itself on her face as a pink glow that lit up the tips of her ears and her cheeks and the back of her neck. Realisation dawned on her face. He couldn't really tell what that expression meant.

"Don't you see?" he implored stumblingly. "This could never work. I can never give you what you'll eventually want. It's not just about the marriage and the children and the happy home life. It's about…it's about _intimacy_. It's natural that you should want that. Just simple intimacy. But I can't ever give you that. And one day, kissing isn't going to be enough. And if we're not strong enough to resist the temptation…"

She thought about it. The two of them sneaking away, finding somewhere illicit to slide the clothes from their bodies and become one. And she would know that it was wrong. But did it matter? Wasn't it more important to be close to him, to know him? How could society scorn love? How could they be denied such perfect intimacy when it wasn't an act driven by baser instincts, but something pure and true? Try as she may (and she didn't try all that hard), she couldn't feel ashamed at her instinct that she wouldn't mind getting to know Mr. Bates intimately. She wanted him, all of him. The quiet strength in his bearing. His broad shoulders. His delicious weight. She would never feel ashamed at sharing that part of herself with him, of letting him touch her in her most private of places. Not ever.

But perhaps it wasn't the best way of convincing him that everything would be all right between them. If Mr. Bates caught any inkling in her that she wouldn't mind such things, he would cut her off right now. He'd claim it to be for her own good, for both of their own goods, but it would still tear her apart. And she knew it would destroy him too. No, now was not the time to discuss such matters, not when they hadn't even embarked on anything that resembled a courtship yet.

So she squeezed his fingers and tilted her head so that she could peer into his eyes.

"That doesn't matter right now," she said confidently.

"Anna, you can't make light of such a situation," he warned her. "Of course it matters."

She shook her head more fervently. "No, it doesn't yet. All of that is far in the future. I'm not asking for any of that. All I'm asking for is you. In whatever form that is."

"You'll regret it." His voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Never," she reassured him softly, lacing their fingers together properly. Internally, she marvelled at how right their hands felt together. It was as though they had been crafted by God for this purpose. His fingers were so warm and large, wrapping around hers perfectly. She could feel the strength in his fingers, the strength that would be hers, that would protect her and that she would love in return. Her palm kissed his, small and soft compared to his, roughened by hard labour. "I'll never regret it, not with any breath in my body. I promise."

And then he smiled. It was a smile that took her breath away, so pure and open it was. His eyes crinkled at the corners. They _danced_ with his joy.

"You mean that?" he breathed, words almost lost on the sigh of the wind.

"Every word," she replied, voice equally as soft. His gaze was reverent.

And then he was dipping his head again, tightening his hold on her hand, stepping closer. Anna had a split-second to angle her head instinctively before his mouth was over hers again, crushing the words that wanted to follow. The hand that wasn't in hers snaked down to grip her waist; her spare hand mirrored him, slipping inside his jacket to clutch at his waistcoat. Their mouths moved in perfect harmony, as though they'd been doing it their entire lives. Their eyes were closed, allowing them to concentrate completely on the sensations of simply sharing such a long-denied intimacy. And their hands still clutched tight. Nothing would come between such a link now.

There was a warm glow in his eyes when they eventually parted, and Anna shuddered as she rested her forehead against his chin, panting for breath. Their fingers were still entwined. Mr. Bates' body heat was warming her other hand nicely. Finally, Anna pulled back enough to look up into the valet's face.

"Mr. Bates?"

"Yes?" he said, his hand stroking a lazy circle over the swell of her waist. "What's wrong?"

She bit her lip, then made up her mind. "I love you." It was only the second time that she had ever breathed those words in his presence. For a moment, peering up into his face, she was worried about how he would take it.

She needn't have. Gone was the tortured look that had terrorised his face only a few minutes before. Now a slow smile spread across his features. It was such an open smile, so honest and soft. Anna didn't think she'd ever seen him looking more handsome.

And, for the first time in a very long time, he healed her heart completely.

"I love you too," he breathed. "I love you so much, Anna."

Anna's heart leapt as she heard those words pass from his lips for the first time. For a moment, she thought that she was imagining them. Mr. Bates would never speak them so directly. He'd utter them wrapped up in the middle of a cryptic riddle, leaving her more confused than ever. He wouldn't return her feelings so openly. It wasn't who he was. He was more intent on pushing them apart than drawing them together. But he was still smiling at her. His hand was still in hers. And then she realised it. Those words were here to stay. They were finally hers, every single syllable of them. All hers to replay and enjoy at her luxury, hers to hear murmured in her ear at the end of a long day, or else declared ardently in the security of the courtyard. She was sure her face was going to crack, she was smiling that hard. She felt light-headed, free. There were so many things that needed to be said, so many avenues that needed to be exhausted. But all of those were conversations for a different night. Not tonight, when he had confessed his love for her. Not tonight, when so many good things had transpired. Nothing else mattered for the moment. Just the two of them.

He was still smiling when he bent down to kiss her for the countless time. She could feel it twisting over her own lips. It felt so delicious; she had never experienced anything like it before in her life. She felt her own lips curving beneath his, matching his expression perfectly, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world for her teeth to graze against his as they kissed. All of their kisses so far had been incredible, warming every part of her body exquisitely, but there was something different about this one. It filled up every part of her, overwhelming her senses. It was the very first kiss that she'd shared with him with the echo of his love for her still resounding in her head. She didn't think that any kiss she had again would be as wonderful as this one, though she knew that each one that she shared with him would continue to set her alight.

Finally, they broke apart again. Mr. Bates bent down and rested his forehead gently against hers, peering lovingly into her eyes.

"I love you, Anna," he said again, almost as though he couldn't keep the words from his lips now that he had uttered them once. She smiled brilliantly at him, rubbing the cold tip of her nose against the side of his, closing her eyes happily to drink in the feel of him. Around them, the snow continued to fall. There couldn't be a more picturesque scene in the world.

"Come on," murmured Mr. Bates presently, "let's get inside now. It's rather cold, and no doubt Mrs. Hughes or Mr. Carson will come looking for us soon."

"I could never be cold in your arms," she said, but stepped away from him when he loosened his grip on her. She offered him her hand as he stooped to pick up his cane, and he took it with a sureness that made her heart sing in her chest. Together, they moved towards the back door, matching each other's step precisely, their pace slower than usual due to Mr. Bates having to navigate through the snow carefully with his stick. Once they'd made it to the door, Mr. Bates dropped her hand and stepped back, allowing her to step inside first. Knowing that their golden moment was over, Anna ducked past him, the warmth of the house hitting her face in a welcome manner. Mr. Bates closed the door behind him, and they spent several moments shaking the snow from their hair, glancing shyly at each other.

"Thank you for that," Mr. Bates said in a low voice, his hand hovering close to her arm.

Her smile was soft and loving. "Believe me, Mr. Bates, the pleasure was all mine."

"No, really," he said. "You've given me back so much, Anna. I don't know what I'd do without you. I might have pushed you away until now, but I never wanted to. I've loved you for so long now, and I was terrified that you returned those feelings, that you refused to give up on me no matter what I said. I didn't know what to do."

"I'm just glad that you finally saw sense," she said softly. "Even if it did take Mr. Branson to spur you on."

He laughed out loud, his eyes twinkling. "I never thought I'd be silently thanking Mr. Branson for kissing you."

"I can't say I can complain," she said, biting the inside of her cheek. "Whoever catches Mr. Branson's eye in the future is in for a treat."

"What are you trying to say?" Mr. Bates demanded to know playfully. "Are my efforts no match for Mr. Branson's?"

She remembered the way he had kissed her, how it had made her feel. Her breath hitched. "Oh, no, there can be no comparison." Aware that they were treading in dangerous waters, she lowered her voice until it was barely a whisper. "You're rather wonderful, darling."

The term of endearment made him smile. "As are you, love."

Hearing the word escape from his lips in such a casual manner made her heart swell in her chest. She wanted to clasp his hand in hers, but she knew she couldn't. Instead, they walked in silence towards the servants' hall, where happy peals of laughter could be heard.

"You know," he commented lightly upon their approach, "I don't think I shall ever have a better Christmas."

She stopped short, smile widening. "Neither will I, Mr. Bates. Neither will I."

Mr. Bates stopped beside her, returning her smile. "Come on, let's get back into the servants' hall. No doubt people are beginning to wonder where we are."

Anna nodded in agreement, and they moved forward together towards the threshold. They were met by a lovely sight. William was busy playing an upbeat tune on the piano, while one of the younger maids and a hall boy danced in the confined space. The rest of the servants were watching, clapping in time to the music – all except for Mr. Carson and Miss O'Brien, that was, the former wearing a look of mild horror, the latter simply looking contemptuous. In all realities, Mr. Bates and Anna should have remained undetected by the door.

But they weren't.

"Anna, Mr. Bates!"

Daisy's voice, excitable at the best of times, had risen to a whole new pitch. It broke through the merry lull of conversation currently taking place in the servants' hall, and stopped them both in their tracks.

"Yes, Daisy?" Anna asked, beginning to frown. "Is there something wrong?"

She was grinning brightly at them. "You're lucky tonight, Anna! You're standing under the mistletoe again!"

Conversation stopped then, as though it had been snuffed out like a candle's light. The silence left behind was deadly. All eyes were on them. Mr. Carson's gaze was as disapproving as usual. Mrs. Hughes looked watchful. Mrs. Patmore seemed to be biting back a grin. Miss O'Brien's expression was one of nasty scorn. William looked shocked. Why did it feel as if the whole of the staff were suddenly aware of the rapport that had developed between the two of them? They couldn't know. No one did. She and Mr. Bates had never outwardly appeared as more than professionals, friends at the most. Anna felt her neck flushing as she met each gaze in turn. Why was she being so silly? Wasn't this what she had been desperate for ever since the mistletoe had been hung in the doorway?

It was, but now that she'd experienced his kiss for herself, had been afforded the luxury of kissing him without interruption, she wasn't sure if she was ready for such an occurrence. With his declaration of love held in the secret cavern of her heart, she was sure that she would be completely and utterly transparent if he kissed her now. Somehow, she forced herself to glance in Mr. Bates' direction. She was expecting him to look more than a little awkward and uncomfortable. Instead, she was shocked to find him looking completely relaxed. He was even smiling a little.

"Go on then!" Daisy said insistently. "It's tradition!"

"Daisy!" Mrs. Hughes admonished. "Don't be rude. If they don't want to, then it's perfectly acceptable for them to –"

"It's quite all right," Mr. Bates interrupted quietly. Biting his cheek to keep his huge grin in check, he turned to look at Anna. She mirrored his action, looking a little apprehensive. "Miss Smith, would you find it acceptable for me to kiss you?"

She nodded, tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth, unable to formulate any words.

The entire servants' hall held its breath. Mr. Bates bent closer. She could smell his aftershave again. It was intoxicating. His hand shifted on his cane, gripping it tightly. For the second time that evening, she wondered what to do with her arms. They were hanging uselessly at her sides.

But he didn't seem inclined to take her in his arms, so she kept hers where they were. She leaned closer to him, tilting her head up. She felt as if the whole thing was happening in slow motion. The eyes of the room burned into them. She knew her face was flaming. She had one last chance to see him moving closer, his eyes drifting closed.

And then he was kissing her. It was completely chaste. From the angle that the others were sitting at, it would be assumed that he was kissing her low on the cheek. If he lingered a little too long, well, it was innocent enough to let it slide on this occasion. Mrs. Hughes might take each of them aside separately to warn them of the dangers of growing too attached, but there was no reason to cause a scene at the moment.

In actual fact, his lips had just captured the corner of her mouth. Warmth flooded her body, starting at that spot. She had to fight the urge to turn her head and kiss him properly. She knew that they couldn't risk more than this in their current circumstances.

Mr. Bates pulled away then, much too soon for her liking. There was a smile playing around the corner of his mouth. His eyes twinkled. In all of his time at Downton, she had never seen him looking as happy as he looked then. He looked so _free_. She couldn't stop the pleased feeling that it was down to her that he looked like that.

"Well, thank you, Anna," he said. "That was lovely."

"You're welcome," she murmured in reply, fighting her own smile.

They continued into the room then, avoiding looking at each other. There was silence for a few more seconds as everyone turned to watch them make their way to their usual seats. As they settled themselves down under the stares of everyone else, Anna couldn't stop herself from brushing subtly against his arm as she made a show of pulling her chair up to the table. Attention was diverted from them then by Daisy, who started chatting excitedly again about what the family might possibly have bought for them in the morning. O'Brien made a scornful comment, cutting her down before she got too carried away, and as everyone else started joining in to give their opinions, Anna allowed her mind to drift away.

_I love you_. Had those words truly escaped from his lips? It all seemed too unlikely in her head. And yet, turning her head just slightly to regard him out of the corner of her eye and finding him doing just the same, she knew it was true. Her lips fought against the smile that wanted to curl there. The winter winds had blown change in their direction tonight, that was for sure. She intended to embrace that change with every fibre of her being, and from the look upon Mr. Bates' face, she knew that he wanted to do the same. She didn't know what the winter wind would bring them in the next few days or weeks or months or even years, nor how things would progress from here, but she did know that she was willing to fight for their future together, no matter what the cost. Perhaps one day they truly would be able to have a proper life together. Realising that her thoughts were entering very dangerous territory, she quickly launched herself into the conversation, teasing Daisy lightly about her somewhat steep fantasies of being given a new frock. In the back of her mind, however, there was only one thought.

No present she ever received again would come close to meaning as much as the gift of Mr. Bates' love.

* * *

**A/N: **That's that, then. Merry Christmas, everyone! See you on the other side of the Christmas Special!


End file.
